


A takedown to remember

by stingray070



Category: White Collar
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingray070/pseuds/stingray070
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal falls into the freezing river; emergency cuddling happens. Just a fluffy little drabble I found on my computer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A takedown to remember

“Only you, Neal. Only you,” sighs Peter, stuck somewhere between concern and amusement.

“W-what? I've c-caught the b-bad g-guy, haven't I?” retorts Neal. The words come out slurred, either because of shivering or because of a big shot of brandy he had undercover.

“Well, yeah, sure. If falling into the river with him can be qualified as “catching him,” chuckles Peter. 

It surely would be one of their most memorable takedowns.

*****

…If it had happened in summer, it would have been even funny. But there’s hardly anything to laugh about cold November water.

When they were fished up from the river, Neal looked pathetic. He shivered so hard that his teeth were chattering, and his lips turned blue.

Their backup took the equally drenched and shivering bad guy, so Peter had been left to take care of Neal - as usual. Thankfully, the hotel they've been staying undercover for the weekend was just right on a shore. 

After dragging his charge to their room, Peter dropped him on a couch, toweled quickly and ordered to strip. Neal struggled with the wet shirt - shaking, numb fingers didn’t want to cooperate. Peter pushed his hands aside and unbuttoned the shirt himself with steady, brisk movements. Then, giving Neal some privacy to deal with his pants, he went off to find some dry clothes and hot tea…

*****

Now, curled on a couch in Peter’s too large sweatshirt and pants (and really, whose fault is it, if Cary Grant here had packed a whole suitcase of skinny ties, but nothing remotely sensible to wear in a cold weather?), with his hair a mess of drying curls, Neal looks like a college kid.

“You did good,” says Peter. “If you hadn’t knock him down into the water, we'd probably never caught him”.

He wants to add “Please, PLEASE, be more careful”, but he knows it’s fruitless. The only thing he can do is to be there to catch him when he falls. And he is determined to be.

Neal brightens.

“Will I g-get a medal? B-because I w-was risking my life and all...”

“Sorry, pal. Have to settle for home-cooked meal. El invites”.

Neal looks up, surprised and quietly pleased. And smiles. 

“That’s nice t-too”.

He shivers. 

“Still cold?” asks Peter.

He gets a “What do you think?” glare and a sniffle in response. 

Peter rolls his eyes. He drops on a couch right next to his conman, put an arm around him and draws him in.

Neal stiffens for a moment, and than curls into a ball and burrows right into him, like a big cat.

“Better now?” asks Peter, not bothering to hide a smile. If Elizabeth was there, she would be surely aww’ing and snapping a picture or two. 

“You’re b-better than a b-blanket,” says Neal playfully, but doesn’t let go of him. 

Peter rubs his arm and throws another blanket over them both. 

*****

Eventually Neal stops shivering and starts to lean heavier at Peter’s side. Seems like he’s settling himself comfortably in his blanket nest with his warm, breathing pillow. 

“Hey, you warmed up?” asks Peter.

He gets a very sleepy, but content “Mmhm” and a noseful of fluffy hair.

“Well than, let go of me, I have to check with Anderson and write a report. Neal?”

Neal makes a plaintive sound and snuggles closer, even if it seems impossible.

“Neal. Let me go”.

“Five more minutes? Pleeeeease?” mumbles Neal.

Yep. Definitely the brandy. 

“Ok, five minutes,” sighs Peter, trying to sound stern and not hopelessly fond instead.

*****

Peter wakes up an hour later, with a crick in his neck and a warm weight pinning him to the couch. He carefully slides out from under his burden. Neal looks startlingly young and relaxed in his sleep, not at all like cocky, self-assured conman he usually is. 

Peter adjusts a blanket over him and then laughs, noticing his own dog socks on Neal’s feet. 

Neal’s gonna love it.


End file.
